Why you're wrong if you don't like anchovies: When it comes to this umami bomb, that's just not a viable option

Author & Illustrator: Paige Resnick

My mother is a goddess in many ways, but particularly when it comes to gift-giving. She manages to find exactly what you never knew you wanted. So when a package arrived at my doorstep on Valentine’s Day addressed in her lovely, loopy, motherly handwriting, I actually shrieked aloud, certainly frightening the neighbors across the hall (put on a shirt 2N, you’re not that cute). Inside that package, wrapped carefully in that protective stuffing that gets absolutely all over your floors, were six little boxes of tinned fish: Portuguese mackerel, beautiful little silver sardines, calamari stuffed with rice and soaking in tomato sauce, and, most importantly, a luxurious tin of anchovies--all shipped straight from Zingerman’s, a deli and specialty food shop in Ann Arbor, Michigan that people wait outside in the rain for hours to get into (totally worth it, order the Reuben and an old pickle. Duh). A gift to rival all other gifts.

If you know me at all (obviously not as well as my mother, but who can top that), you know that I love anchovies. I put them in everything. I put them on salads and pasta and bread. I mix them with butter to slather on a chicken before roasting in the oven. I put them on potato chips for a salty snack (thank you Alison Roman for your gorgeous genius). When I open a tin to add two or three or six to a salsa verde, I usually snack on the remaining fillets while cooking, just picking them up straight out of their oily home and dropping them into my mouth. I want to name my future child Anchovy; I will call them Chovie for short. There’s a note in my phone to remind future me to do so. 

It’s truly wild to me that people think they don’t like anchovies. “It’s too fishy, too salty, I don’t like how it smells, there are bones in there!” Sorry sir, you are mistaken. I know that people have their food preferences (I don’t like peanut butter, sue me), but I have science to back me up on this one. 

Since antiquity, salt, sweet, sour, and bitter have reigned supreme as the four main tastes in food. But since its discovery in 1908 in Japan, umami has become the most globally celebrated flavor with its addition to the OG four. The amino acid glutamate is responsible for umami, a taste that is sometimes referred to as “savory,” but is really in a class all its own; it’s what keeps you reaching your stained fingers back into that bag of Takis, it’s that deliciousness in parmesan you just can’t put your finger on, it’s that wild funk in kimchi and all things fermented. Umami is a flavor that you notice from your first bite to your last; it’s begging for attention. You may have guessed--smart cookie that you are--that anchovies are packed full of umami. All that salty fishiness is FLAVOR; it amplifies and gives nuance to even the most simple dish. A dish with anchovies doesn’t taste like anchovies. It tastes really freaking good. If you are worried about anchovies (they’re more afraid of you than you are of them!), I’ve got some tips for a nice introduction. And soon you’ll be eating them straight from the tin like me!

Important things to note when buying anchovies:

There are lots of different prices and qualities when it comes to anchovies. The cheaper anchovies you buy, the fishier and saltier they will be. This is fine if 1. You are a die-hard anchovy fan and salt addict like me, or 2. You are chopping up your anchovies really small, melting them down, or mixing them in with lots of other ingredients (in a vinaigrette or sauce, let’s say!). The fishiness will blend, leaving you with nothing but powerful flavor. But if you are just eating anchovies on a toasted baguette (perhaps with some sweet butter and lemon zest on top?), you want something a little higher quality that won’t pucker lips on its own. That’s an appetizer for the ages!

Don’t forget about the anchovy paste! Anchovy paste is a HUGE addition to your pantry. This is basically like tomato paste but anchovy style, a nice squeeze bottle of umami. It’s great if you really can’t stand the little bones in the tinned variety (although let’s be serious, they are so small you can’t notice). Anchovy paste also blends well into sauces and vinaigrettes without the heat or mortar and pestle action that’s needed if you don’t want a whole fillet in your food. It can be found in the same grocery aisle as your favorite tins.

Anchovies usually come in tins or small glass jars. Avoid any tins or jars that say “Salt Added.” Anchovies are pretty salty on their own, they really don’t need any more salt. If you are buying a tin, these aren’t resealable, but you can always put the leftovers that you don’t use in a Tupperware and store in the fridge for later. 

Paige’s top three ways to add anchovies to any meal:

1. Anchovy butter: I ALWAYS have a container of this godly stuff in the fridge. Just chop up two tins of anchovies and beat into two sticks of softened, unsalted butter. Add a little freshly cracked pepper, just for kicks, and store in a Tupperware. Rub on a chicken for roasting! Sautée your vegetables in it! Spread it on your toast in the morning! Mix it in with some hot pasta, parmesan, red pepper flakes, parsely, and a squeeze of lemon juice. Weeknight dinner goals. 

2. Pasta sauce: If you are making puttanesca or just a simple basic tomato sauce, you gotta squeeze in some anchovy paste. This really adds complexity to your sauce and makes it taste like you had it going on the stove for days, not 20 minutes. The acid from tomatoes and the fattiness from the anchovies are as sexy a match as you can get (what says sexy more than culinary balance?).

3. Vinaigrettes, salsa verdes, and other oily, herby things: This is not your mama’s Caesar salad, baby. Anchovies add punch to any boring dressing. I’m thinking champagne vinegar, shallots, and tarragon for a twist on a Salade Niçoise vinaigrette. If you have a mortar and pestle, it’s super easy to mash some anchovies up with some parsley, garlic, Dijon, and olive oil for the beginnings of a kick-ass salsa verde. Or maybe you mix together some basil and some pine nuts in with your fishy friends for a pumped-up pesto. If you don’t have a mortar and pestle, you can use the flat part of the blade of a big knife and a little bit of kosher salt to smash it into a paste.